


Fire With Snow I

by Crowgirl



Series: On the Strength of the Evidence [7]
Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Consensual Infidelity, Early Days, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Found Families, M/M, Non-Chronological, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8242877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: ‘Oh. All on your own, then.'‘I was hoping not.’





	

Geordie watches from a pew safely far back in the nave of the church as Leonard leans forward to speak to the choir, then takes a step back and raises his hands. A man in the back row breaks out coughing and Leonard lets his hands drop, visibly sighing. 

Sidney, fiddling with the lamp at the reader’s desk, turns and says something that makes Leonard laugh and shrug; a woman in the front corner of the choir stall adds a few words and the cougher in the back mimes cringing back from Leonard in fear. Leonard laughs again and makes as if to throw a hymnal, then drops it on the stand before him, and claps his hands to get the choir’s attention.

Geordie can’t hear anything that’s being said -- he’s too far back in the church for one, and the noise of everyone else filing in for the not-quite-Christmas Eve service masks anything that might be heard from the front. Cathy nudges him and he pushes over the last possible inch in the pew, until his left hip is jammed uncomfortably in the corner to try and accommodate one last person on the aisle end. The church is getting hot and he wishes he had taken his coat off before he sat down; if he gets up now, there’s a very good chance Cathy will be pushed over into his spot and he won’t have anywhere to sit down again. If the children were with them, he might risk it; they think shoving for sitting space is grand fun, but they’re with Caroline at home and, he hopes, busy getting worn out with parlor games.

Sidney switches the lamp on, nods to himself and straightens up, glancing over the body of the church. His lips move as though he’s counting, then he turns and walks back to where Leonard is standing. They exchange a few words, Leonard nods and keeps trying to get the choir in tune, and Sidney vanishes back behind the choir stalls.

‘Go on, then.’ Cathy nudges him again and her voice is quiet in his ear.

‘What? What are you talking about?’ Geordie pulls himself back, shaking his head briskly and trying to pretend his thoughts hadn’t been wandering. How on earth the man can make a surplice -- which is basically a tablecloth with a hole in the middle as far as Geordie can tell -- look...well, like something Geordie would really like to spend time taking off him is a complete mystery. Of course, it isn’t _just_ the surplice Geordie would like to remove; there’s everything underneath it, starting with the cassock -- but that’s a train of thought best pursued elsewhere. He coughs and shifts in his seat, grateful that Cathy’s the only one who can get a clear look at his face.

Cathy leans forward so only he can see her face and rolls her eyes elaborately, like a schoolgirl in on a prank with her chum. ‘Don’t give me that. Go on. You’ve got a good fifteen minutes before the service starts.’ She smiles and lowers her voice even further. ‘And I’ll see you at home if you don’t fancy coming back.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Cath -- he’s got a _service_ to give!’ Geordie hisses back.

She shrugs. ‘Yes, well, don’t forget Caro and the kids and I are leaving tomorrow lunchtime.’

‘I won’t forget.’ Geordie pushes himself out of the pew, pulling his hat out of the hymnal rack and giving it a slightly rueful glance. It’s been very thoroughly crumpled in its time and never comes quite right now. 

Cathy slides into his space with a sigh of relief and reaches out to give him a pat on the arm. She watches him fiddle with his hat for a minute, then takes it out of his hands and smoothes it with a few practiced movements. ‘Tell Sidney happy Christmas for me. And don’t forget the gifts the kids left for him.’ She holds out his hat to him.

He drops a quick kiss on her forehead and starts weaving his way up the aisle of the church, nodding to greetings and taking a few handshakes as he goes.

* * *

The cold air outside the church is a relief and he takes a deep breath. He hadn’t fully realised how the green scent of crushed holly leaves, the odor of wool coats recently brought out of mothballs, and the dusty perfumes of elderly women who have been wearing the same scent for so long they could bathe in the stuff and not notice it was too much was turning the inside of the church into a perfumed fug. 

Automatically, he slaps his coat pockets looking for a cigarette, then shakes his head, and ducks around the corner of the porch away from the last few stragglers hurrying into the church. There’s a dusting of snow on the ground, not enough to wet his shoes, and more drifting down lazily in the light of the church windows.

Once he’s out of direct earshot of the bustle around the porch, the snow starts to have a muffling effect, making everything feel slightly unreal. The only light is coming through the church windows, casting wide rectangles of yellow on the snowy grass. Voices from the front of the church sound much further away than he knows they are and he shivers and walks a little faster. His foot crunches on snow-covered leaves and he ducks through the gap in the hedge to the vestry door of the church. 

Sidney is standing outside the half-open door, just tossing down a spent match, a newly lit cigarette in his hand. He takes a deep lungful of smoke and lets it out in a thin stream. 

‘Are you supposed to do that when you’re in uniform?’ Geordie inquires, stepping into the pool of light cast by the lamp above the door.

Sidney holds out the cigarette to him. ‘Mrs M’s the only one who complains and she’s gone to stay with her niece. Something about making sure her god-daughter had a proper Christmas.’ 

Sidney has a knack for imitating Mrs Maguire and Geordie chuckles, takes a pull from the cigarette, and hands it back. ‘Cathy wanted me to tell you happy Christmas. And the kids have left presents for you at the house.’

Sidney flushes and nods, looking down at the ground. ‘Yes, I -- er -- give her my best?’ He gives Geordie a sideways, half-apologetic smile and Geordie has to resist the urge to reassure him yet again that Cathy _doesn’t mind._ Sidney’s going to have to come to terms with that himself; there’s only so much Geordie can do and repeating himself at every opportunity won’t help. It’ll only sound as though Geordie is trying to excuse himself or explain something away. 

‘I will.’ Geordie watches Sidney take another mouthful of smoke and let it trickle slowly between his lips to mingle with the flakes of snow and the hazy light. It makes a kind of glowing haze and Sidney waves his hand through it, making the smoke eddy and adding a thicker swirl from the cigarette still burning between his fingers.

‘And you’re off for the holidays, aren’t you?’ Sidney asks, again looking down at the ground, dragging the toe of his shoe against the edge of the granite step. 

‘Cath and the kids are going to Caro’s parents tomorrow.’ Geordie stops before he means to. This is still so new and feels fragile enough that it seems a little -- indecent to ask Sidney to come to his house, temporarily empty of wife and children, and -- well. It isn’t as though he has anything _planned_ particularly but the implication is clear enough and he isn’t coward enough to pretend that isn’t what he means, at least in part.

‘Oh. All on your own, then,’ Sidney says, taking a last puff off the cigarette and dropping the end to the snowy earth. He grinds it out with his heel; there’s a brisk rap on the inner door and he calls over his shoulder: ‘Coming!’

‘I was hoping not,’ Geordie says, feeling himself blush and feeling as ridiculous as he had the first time he asked a girl out when he was about thirteen. He has to stop himself from shuffling his feet. He coughs and makes himself look up at Sidney. Sidney’s looking at him as though Geordie has just offered him a week on the Riviera, complete with nightly concerts, rather than a couple of evenings in a rather shabby sitting room. 

‘Christ, you’re beautiful.’ The words slip out before he means them to and he feels himself go hot. What an idiotic thing to say; men don’t call each other _beautiful,_ for heaven’s sake. He sees Sidney look quickly into the room, then he looks back and smiles, a slight curve of his mouth, almost shy. Geordie’s breath catches and he coughs to cover it. 

‘You’re not so bad yourself.’ He glances into the room again, then leans forward and kisses Geordie, his lips a momentary chill on Geordie’s mouth. ‘I’ll be over around teatime.’ 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my dedicated and forgiving betas, [elizajane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane) and [Kivrin.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivrin)
> 
> And there wasn't really a way to work this out in the "Gift To" field, so this should be co-dedicated to whatever lovely soul is taking all the [behind the scenes photos of _Grantchester_ filming their Christmas special](http://www.cambridge-news.co.uk/snow-in-october-as-grantchester-christmas-special-comes-to-cambridge/story-29788069-detail/story.html) and to Kivrin who sent me the photos in the first place.
> 
> The title is from [_Two Gentlemen of Verona_](http://www.bartleby.com/70/1227.html); if I've ever seen it, I've forgotten it but this line seemed too perfect: "Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow / As seek to quench the fire of love with words."


End file.
